Dancing the Weaves
by Aiel Pirate
Summary: When a young maiden from the Waste runs away to seek more, she learns things about herself that she never would have expected, and gets more than she bargained for.
1. Renegade

**Chapter One**

The sun cast a warm but dark light on the earth, clouds shadowing the normally golden rays that it offered. The murky formations of cloud hinted coming rain, and loads, at that, likely for that afternoon. It was morning, the sun fully up, but only just above the horizon of the flat plains, another possible reason for the eerily reduced light. The wind blew softly, barely more than a breeze, enough to keep a weary traveler cool, but not enough to affect the summer heat of the clouded sun.

A sudden gust of wind blew through the girl's hair, causing the golden red locks to ripple around her face. She lifted a tanned hand to push the shoulder length tresses back and drew up the hood of her cloak to prevent it from happening again. The season's heat did not affect her, even wearing a heavy cloak to protect her from the weather; indeed, it was much warmer where she had lived before.

She pushed the thought out of her head --she didn't live there anymore-- and continued along the seldom-used dirt path. The young woman of about 19 carried very little, only a raggedy brown pack on her back, which held the small amounts of food she had and a bit of money, and the dagger in her belt. It wasn't a flashy item, the weapon, but enough to defend her if a time came when it was needed. It also helped that she had been well trained in how to use it. She wore dark gray breeches, about the shadowy shade of the gathering storm clouds, with a brown tunic, the perfect tints of color to camouflage her where she had come from, but stood out dangerously against the lush green grass in the tall fields around her. But again, she wasn't back there anymore. She was far away from there. She reminded herself again not to dwell on it, she was moving on.

The road was empty as far as she could see, and due to the uniformity of the grassland, she could see very far. It only disappointed her to a small degree. She had been hoping to find a small town in time for breakfast, but she could always eat the leftovers of the previous night's rabbit meat. It might even be better that way. Many towns didn't take kindly to "her type", even though she no longer wanted to be that person. "Her type" was the exact type that she was running away from. She had always wanted to be free from "Her type". And now she finally was.

Shethought abouttaking a break to eat, but after a moment's consideration, continued on her way. If it was, indeed, going to rain that afternoon, it would be best to find some sort of shelter, from an inn to a cave to even a tree of some sort, anything to cover her. That was one thing she hadn't adapted to: the rain. It had never rained in her previous home, and so much water falling from the sky at one time overwhelmed her, even scared her. She wouldn't get any protection at all out in the middle of a field. Meals could come later. She had gone longer without food before.

The woman had been traveling for almost three weeks now, and in those three weeks had seen more than she ever had in her whole life. Nothing in her regretted leaving, and she had only once wished for home, caught out in the open during a particularly violent rainstorm. She had traveled by foot, mainly, but had gone a short distance on horseback, despite her hereditarycontempt of horses, by carriage, and had even taken a short (yet deathly terrifying-- _who_ could abide all that water?) voyage on a Sea Folk vessel, putting hundreds of miles between her andthe life before her flight. True, she had encountered her share of difficulties, but even she had been more than able to handle a couple of drunken men, infatuated by her only because of the cheap rum.

She walked in silence, soaking in the pleasure of being all alone for once. She had been right her whole life. She hadn't needed any of them. She was better off by herself. She could survive without being a slave to violence and honor. She could survive outside of the Waste. She could survive without being Aiel.

The rain did indeed come that afternoon, in the worst place possible to be-- the middle of the long and winding road. The Aiel still had not eaten, despite her hunger, and no town had come into sight. She hadn't even passed anyone. It was eerie, the silence. All she could hear were her own footsteps and the occasional drops of rain. It wasn't raining hard yet. There was still time for her to find sanctuary.

The rain came down harder and harder, and more than once the runaway Aiel cursed her bad luck while rubbing theicy cold precipitationoff of her face. Her once fair locks were pasted against her cheeks, sending rivers of water down her neck and under her clothes. The wind was blowing hard now, and with the rain soaking her, she was colder than she had ever been in her life. She hadn't experienced cold quite like it before.Yes, nights in the waste were cold, possibly colder than itwashere, butthere was no wind, no rain, andthere was always some task at hand to keep her busy.Wasn't it supposed to be summer? She had thought she learned about cold during a drafty night aboard the Sea Folk ship _Marina_. She now knew that she had been wrong. She shuddered, but not because of the cold.The former Aiel Maiden had wondered what winter temperatures would be like.

It was late that night when she finally sat down to eat; soaked to the bone despite her efforts to keep dry. At least she had found a small grove of about six trees to rest under, and prevent herself from getting wetter, though she doubted that was possible. She managed to find a few sticks and twigsthat weren't completely drenched and made a small fire. After roasting a small portion of rabbit meat for dinner, her first meal all day,she leaned back against a waterlogged tree to sleep.

It was morning when she awoke. She yawned, her eyes still shut. The first thing she noticed was that the rain had stopped. The second was that she was not alone. Her eyes burst open, and she wasted no time in sitting up and reaching for her dagger before coming to a stop against the point of a sword.

A man stood over her, eventaller than she was, and muscular. His blondish goatee was short, and it added to the sinister effect his dark eyes and malevolent sneer gave his face. He wore a fancy brown tunic and breeches, darker even than hers, and his belt held a wide array of assorted daggers and swords. Her dagger hung next to the empty scabbard of the sword that was at her throat.

She surveyed the area, looking for a possible way to escape despite the point at her neck. No less than five other men were standing around her campsite, all with arrows pointed directly at her. Her pack lay emptied next to the spot where her fire had been, and she could tell that many of her supplies had been stolen.

_Careless,_ she thought. _Stupid and careless. _This never would have happened to her in the waste.

"Don't move, girlie, if you know what's good for you," Her captor sneered. "You were right, Gart. This un's pure Aiel." Another man nodded smugly, clearly having expecting no less. The girl snarled at being called such. She was no Aiel. The blade traced a line across her neck. "Make any sudden moves and my sword'll make that line again, but it'll cut the skin.Deep. Turn around."

"What do you want fr--"

"It don't matter. Turn around!"

She obeyed, slowly standing and turning to face the tall oak tree that she had spent the night sleeping against, intensely aware of how incredibly vulnerable she was. If only she had spent more time training instead of planning an escape, she'd know how to defend herself better, even without a weapon.

Her face to the tree, she tried again to speak to the men. "What do you want from me?"

"Hands, Aiel," the lead man demanded.

"Answer my question."

"You're in no position to be making demands, Aiel. Hands!" he growled, more viciously than she could have imagined from a wetlander. The horrible sword point pressed harder against the back of her neck.

She obeyed again, putting her hands behind her back. The man grasped them and cruelly bound them, tight enough that it hurt to even move them. She gasped as she tested the rope's strength. They were tied well, and they dug into her wrists painfully.

"Now turn back around and answer us a few questions, Aiel," the man ordered, prodding her again with his weapon.

This time, she obeyed without questioning, valuing her life above her honor at this point. If she had been proper Aiel, and if her captor had been another Aiel, she'd have had to submit at this point, to be Gai'shain. But this was a wetlander, and she had never been fondof theJi'e'toh system, so it didn't apply. She could still struggle if she wished, but it hurt her wriststo do so.

"What do you want with me?" she pleaded once she faced the men again. "What is it?"

"What's your name, Aiel?" Obviously he still didn't feel like answering her question.

"I'm not Aiel," she spat the word like a curse.

The men laughed. The one with the sword slapped her with the flat of the blade, making her stagger. This made the other men laugh even more. "Don' lie to me, Aiel. It's obvious what you are. No point in tryin' to deny it."

She almost laughed, despite the position she was in. Denying it was exactly what she had done by running away, and here she was, an Aiel all over again. But a real Aiel wouldn't have submitted so easily. A real Aiel wouldn't be a prisoner. A real Aiel would be dangerous, even with no weapon and bound hands.

"What's your name? I'm getting impatient, Aiel. Tell me afore I slit your throat," the man threatened.

She sighed and decided that answering and living would be preferable to refusing and dying, no matter what happened. Another sign that she was no longer a true Aiel as these men thought. "Taerin."

"Taerin what?"

It almost pained her. To answer this question, she'd have to name her clan. Her sept. To announce to the world that she was still Aiel, at least by background. "Taerin of theJarra septof the Miagoma Aiel.

"Well, Taerin of the Jarra sept of the Miagoma Aiel," The manmadeitsound like a curse. "You're coming with us. Don't worry, we'll take care of you." Taerin couldn't possibly have missed the smugness in his voice, and had no doubt that she wouldn't like the way that they would "take care of" her. The way that all the men had burst into laughter did nothing to discourage this theory.

"And who are you to treat me in such a manner?"Taerin demanded with a sudden fury, the minuscule speck of Aiel in her. "What gives you this right to bind me like some sort of animal?

The man stared at her, then grinned wickedly. "We don' take kindly to the Aiel this side o' the Waste. What a treat it will be to show off a captured one in our village." He hit her with his sword flat again, this time knocking her to the ground.

So… this was what she had run away to. She was a renegade Aiel, lost in these wetlands, and the newly capturedtrophy of these brainless wetland men, to be beaten and tortured and mocked. This was what she had fled to. For once, she truely regretted leaving her Aiel. As much as she hated to admit it, she was scared. In fact, she was terrified.

Suddenly, a feeling like... she couldn't describeit--light, perhaps?-- filled her, and the ground erupted before her, tossing her assaulters into the air, killing two men instantly. The one with the sword burst into flame upon touching the ground, shrieking and screaming himself hoarse. One man, the one she recalled as "Gart," nocked an arrow and loosed it at her, but it froze in midair before getting close to her. Torrents of flame wrapped around Gart, incinerating him where he stood. The remaining two, beaten and battered, turned to flee. One unfortunate soul tripped, and the earth exploded around him. The last escaped, his screams fading into the distance.

Taerin felt woozy as she faced the scene of the battle. What had happened? Five men were dead. Did she have a part in that? The horrible explosions... was that her doing? She fell to the ground, suddenly exhausted, the scene around her fading into darkness. The last thing she was aware of was two figures standing over her. "So there are some in the waste," she heard faintly. "Interesting..."

The world was black.


	2. Questions

**Chapter 2**

It was thought by many that Micora Sedai of the Brown Ajah should have been a Green. She didn't have the trademark unawareness that most Browns shared. Instead of staying in the Tower, studying events long past, as far back as the Age of Legends, Micora preferred to learn in a more hands-on style, experiencing unusual occasions that the average person, or even the average Aes Sedai, would never have dreamed of.

Though Micora did indeed have the thirst for knowledge that initially drove her to choose her Ajah, she also had many characteristics of the common Green. She was often hasty and known for jumping into unfortunate situations without thinking first. Like a Green sister, Micora prepared herself for Tarmon Gaidon. When the coming of the Last Battle shocked all of the other Browns, Micora would already be out on the battlefield, blasting Shadowspawn with complex weaves that she had picked up on her travels.

Indeed, the Brown sister knew an excessive amount of fighting weaves, surpassing many of the Greens with this knowledge. As a result, she had more friends among the Battle Ajah than among her own. There were few friends for her inside of the Brown Ajah, as many were convinced that Micora didn't care for her Ajah, and were afraid that Micora would go against all Brown standards. Micora wouldn't have; she _was _loyal to her Ajah, no matter what they thought. She wasn't about to start bonding six different men as Warders, or go to the Blight to blast Trollocs on holiday. No, she was happy as a Brown, and wouldn't have had it any other way.

Micora was strong in the Power. She had been raised to Accepted after four years, and all the way to the shawl after only five. She had a rare affinity for weaving Fire, which was usually a unique affinity to men. As a result, however, her Water couldn't usually exceed a half trained Accepted. But the battle weaves didn't usually use Water, so Micora didn't have any difficulty accepting that.

Ohid was her Warder, a lean Andoran, though a bit on the short side. He was a strong man, and well experienced in battle. Of course, to protect Micora, he'd have to be, seeing as she often didn't think before speaking or doing. His specialty was archery; he could hit a moving target from far off without even thinking. The man also carried a short sword at his side, as the bow wasn't much use when fighting in close range. The short sword was less used, as Ohid wasn't nearly as proficient with it as with his bow and arrows.

Ohid would have done anything for his Aes Sedai, and Micora knew it. Their relationship wasn't intimate though, another quality that separated Micora from the Greens. In fact, Ohid would flirt madly with any beautiful woman who looked at him twice in a bar. His flirtatious quality didn't make him any less loyal, however, and he'd always come right away when Micora called.

Micora didn't flirt. She was pretty enough that most men would make eyes at her, but she was interested in any news or information they had, and nothing more. She was Aes Sedai, and Aes Sedai didn't marry. She was friendly though, and made close friends and acquaintances wherever she went. There was always someone she could call on in the well-known cities and towns, and even in some of the less significantly known places.

No one really knew why Micora and Ohid were in Elmora, a city in Tarabon, slightly southeast of Tanchico. The Aes Sedai and her Warder themselves didn't know for sure. Ohid believed it was just another of Micora's spur-of-the-moment journeys, but Micora wasn't so sure. She felt as if she had been led there, pulled by something. As if something big and important was going to happen and she needed to be there for it. But what could it be? And when would it happen? Her question was quickly answered on a night spent outside of the city.

"Urgh…" Taerin groaned, slowly blinking her eyes as she finally came awake. At first she wasn't sure if she was really awake or not; she couldn't see anything in the dark of night. She groped around her, and found, to her surprise, that her dagger was lying nearby and her clothes were significantly cleaner than they had been before. Where was she? What had happened to her?

As her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she began to observe her surroundings. She was in a tent of some sort, wide and spacious, with two bedrolls laid out, and a third that she herself was in. Her bag lay at the foot of her roll, neatly packed. So she wasn't a prisoner after all.

Outside of the tent she heard a soft sound: the faint crackling of a campfire. Taerin pushed herself to her feet exhaustedly and stumbled outside after pulling her clean, laced boots on.

As the presence of the other bedrolls suggested, the former maiden was not alone in the camp. A woman in a silky brown riding dress sat regally on a blanket near the fire. This instantly struck Taerin as odd. Why would a noblewoman like her be out in the woods at this time of night? Peering closer at her, Taerin realized that she could not put an age to the woman's face. Very peculiar indeed. A rustling in the leaves announced the presence of a man, lean, muscular, and very short compared to the Aiel. The man, clearly a warrior, carried a rabbit, transfixed by an arrow. Neither acknowledged her presence.

"Dinner," the man declared, sitting down and abruptly starting to skin the beast. It was a good-sized creature, and would easily feed three people with leftovers for later.

The woman nodded. "Delicious. That will do quite nicely for tonight. Thank you, Ohid."

"Who are you?" Taerin asked, still standing at the entrance to the tent. "Where am I? What do you want with me?" She fingered her dagger nervously, prepared to fight if she had to.

The man called Ohid merely glanced at her. The woman's eyes searched her up and down, seeming to read the girl. "Oh, look, Ohid. The maiden has awoken at last." She said this as a simple fact. Nothing in her tone showed surprise, happiness, or any recognizable emotion. Who was this strange woman?

"Sit down, girl, and talk to me. Tell me your name," she suggested. "It's alright. Ohid and I won't hurt you. I wouldn't even be able to hurt you unless you tried to kill me." She laughed brightly, as if she knew this wouldn't happen.

Taerin cautiously sat down on the dampened ground as Ohid approached the fire and started to roast the rabbit. She examined the area carefully, making sure there were escape routes available.

"Come, girl, we don't have all night," the woman laughed, her chuckle sounding like a bell. "What brings you so far from the Waste?" Her eyes searched her, as if there was a bit else she wanted to ask, but was holding back until a better time.

"I'm not Aiel."

"Ah, now we're getting somewhere," Ohid remarked. Taerin couldn't tell if the man was talking about her or the rabbit he was cooking.

"Not Aiel? Come now, I can see it in your skin and body. You've clearly been raised in the Waste."

Taerin shuddered. "I… left," she said tensely.

"Left?" The woman glanced at the man. "I've never heard of such a thing; an Aiel leaving her people? Why would you do that, dear?"

The girl trembled softly. She didn't know if it was from the cold or from the sea of memories that suddenly flooded through her head, wearing away the walls that she was so desperately trying to build. "I'm Taerin," she said.

The searching-eyed woman gazed at her, her stare warning Taerin that she would bring the subject up again later. The change of topic would only save her until another time.

"I'm Micora. My friend with the rabbit goes by Ohid," she informed the youngster, gesturing towards the cooking warrior. "We found you in the forest a few days ago. We couldn't bear to just leave you there."

"A few days ago? How… how long was I asleep?" She couldn't remember dreaming at all. It couldn't possibly have been more than a few hours.

"Two and a half days, to be exact. Tomorrow morning it will have been three." That long?

"Who are you? A regular wetland noblewoman like you wouldn't just wander the forests. What were you doing?" Taerin didn't understand. Normal wetland women were soft. They didn't leave their dwellings unless they had to, or so she had been told. The Sea Folk had been an exception, but how could any culture that delighted so much in the water be normal?

"Well, I'm not exactly a noblewoman. I'm Mi—"

"Dinner," Ohid announced, interrupting all conversation. Taerin stared hungrily as the man loaded heavy portions onto small plates. He gave her the largest serving. She hadn't eaten in two and a half days, after all.

She gorged down the rabbit meat so quickly she nearly made herself sick, ignoring any and all questions from either of her rescuers. Finally the wetland woman, Micora, took the plate out from under her. "That's quite enough for now, Taerin. You'll make yourself ill, and you need to be in top shape to travel with us."

Taerin looked at Micora in surprise. "You rescued me and nursed me back to health, and I do appreciate that. But what do you really want with me? I doubt you were just offering a friendly hand to a helpless woman. You're a wetlander. There's more to your words than you say. Why would you assume that I'm traveling with you?"

Micora replied, again sounding like she was simply stating facts. "Because you don't have a choice, dear. You're still very weak. You wouldn't make it very far on your own."

Taerin shrugged. "I suppose you are right, and again I thank you for your help. But you should be aware that after I am back to health, I will be leaving you." She turned and headed back into the tent, drowsiness returning to her.

Ohid leaned close to his Aes Sedai. "You might have some trouble with this one, Micora Sedai. When will you tell her? She isn't aware of what you are yet, but you know Aiel. How do you intend to hold on to her when she finds out?"

"It's time we started stumbling across more channelers as powerful as she, with Tarmon Gaidon approaching. In good time, Ohid, she will find out about us and what we plan to do with her. She will find out, and she may run, but I assure you the Tower will have her."


End file.
